


Rabbit Heart

by Pyreclaws



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: M/M, based on dangan fairytale but not the same AU, wolfwada/bunnymaru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreclaws/pseuds/Pyreclaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life was simple for Ishimaru, until he found himself face to face with the big bad wolf. Rated for some blood and nsfw in the last chapter. Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blessed

Ishimaru checked his basket for holes or wear, and finding none, brushed his lop ears back over his shoulders and set off. He walked calmly through the forest he called home. Other beasts might flee, but he was one who had been given the Blessing. He couldn’t remember it, of course, but several years ago, he had simply…woken up, blessed.

Nobody he had talked to really understood how, or why, beasts like himself gained sapient thought like this. It seemed utterly random. But sometimes, something made them change. It shaped them into creatures like humans, still bearing some signs of the animal they were born as.

Their numbers stayed small over the years, rare but not unheard of. Ishimaru himself had never run into another Blessed, and hadn’t any idea of what he had become until a traveler took refuge in his home one night. The man explained everything he knew in exchange for Ishimaru’s vegetable stew and a warm bed to sleep in. He even left a map that showed several nearby towns, and something that had just been labelled the “Dark Woods” in angry red lettering.

Ishimaru only made his way into town once, wearing a hooded cloak to cover his ears, and bought himself a few things he couldn’t make on his own. Mostly clothes, but also boots to replace the wrappings he had always used, and a knife for chopping his vegetables.

His days consisted of gathering food when he needed to, and expending his nearly limitless energy. He entertained himself by swimming in the river he used to wash his clothes, climbing trees, experimenting with new ways to prepare his food, and going out for long runs just to see what he would find.

Today was one of his vegetable hunting days, and so he carried a basket he’d woven from reeds, and followed the riverbank. He hoped he would find something other than kale for once; he missed the days when he ate carrots for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Ishimaru crouched, and crawled through a bit of tall grass. Sometimes, wild vegetables grew between tufts, and Ishimaru could never find them unless he got to his hands and knees. Sure enough, a fat wild turnip poked out of the ground just to his left. He dug with his hands, the loamy soil loose enough for him to tug it away from the plant. He popped the prize carefully into his basket, and moved on. The next spot was down the river a ways, but the watercress that grew there was spicy and delicious. He grabbed a large handful from the water, and climbed back up the riverbank. He’d need some potatoes or onions, and he still wanted that carrot.

Something rustled in the foliage, and Ishimaru froze with fright. The only part of him he dared move were his red eyes, and slowly at that.

His heart beat crazily against his ribcage. He perked up one ear, and then the other. Had he imagined it? Ishimaru turned his head slowly, ever so slowly.

He never saw what hit him.

-

Ishimaru woke to the noise of a cheerfully crackling fire, and a dull knife thudding against something that snapped beneath the blows. He heard a deep rumble too, soft and rhythmic. His surroundings smelled of soap and smoke and boiling watercress. He opened his eyes, and saw the interior of a rustic little cabin all made from cut wood and neatly mortared river stones.

He was on…some sort of bed. He moved his arms to prop himself up, and squeaked in surprise when they wouldn’t move. His wrists were…bound?

“Fuckin’ finally,” came a low voice from somewhere behind him. It was dark, angry, filled with a growl.

Ishimaru pulled at the rough rope wound between his wrists. Who was talking? Who had caught him? What did they intend to do with him? His eyes were wide again, heart fluttering. He froze in fear instinctively, his ears tight against his skull.

“You rabbits are all the same,” he sneered. “I so much as breathe and you go into shock. And here I thought a Blessed would act differently. Hopefully ya don’t taste too different.”  
Then came a scrape of metal on wood and the sound of uncountable little splashes into the bubbling pot. Ishimaru’s nose twitched as he recognized that smell. Carrots. Well, they were essential in any broth, really…but he gulped. Rabbit stew. That’s what the man who chopped carrots and growled under his breath intended to make.

“Who are you?” Ishimaru asked, trying to sound brave but closing his eyes in defeat when his voice wobbled with fright.

Howling laughter. The chopping paused, and Ishimaru heard him wiping away tears. “You can’t guess? Fuck, you’re thicker than I thought. Well, kid, ya got caught by a wolf.”

Ishimaru’s fists hit the headboard as he squirmed. A wolf? A wolf Blessed lived close enough to hunt him, and yet he’d never seen him before? Never even heard of him?

“You know, the wolf living on the edge of the Dark Woods?” He still kept himself hidden behind the headboard, waiting for his recognition. Ishimaru, however, had learned something else.

“Wait, you dragged me all the way back to the Dark Woods?”

“Yes?” he replied testily. There was a particularly violent thwack of blunt knife against cutting board.

“Oh, I’ve…never been there.”

“Congratulations, you’re fuckin’ here. You sayin’ you’ve never heard of the fuckin’ big bad wolves of the Dark Woods?” Another hard crack of dull metal on wood. “Goddamn, I caught the most wet behind the ears Blessed. Come on, Daiya, you were supposed to send me real food, not some skin and bones baby bunny, fuck.”

Daiya? Ishimaru’s eyebrows furrowed. Was there someone else in the room? Well, he had only minutes to live, now was not the time to freeze and hide. He dug his boots into the bedsheets and pushed his body toward the headboard. That loosened the ropes on his wrists just enough for him to get onto his elbows. He craned his neck, and poked his eyes over the neatly carved wood plank that made up the headboard. Ishimaru kept as low as possible, ears as flat as he could make them.

The wolf Blessed had his back turned, muttering curses as he chopped potatoes with an unsharpened meat cleaver. Ishimaru puzzled over his long jacket, shredded all over by branches and brambles and claws, the collar covered in thick fur tufts. A slit in the back let his bushy tail hang through, gray fur speckled with a ruddy tone. Had he once been a gray wolf? Ishimaru had seen them before, traveling in packs. He had stayed in the trees until he couldn’t hear their howling anymore. Frightening, bloodthirsty beasts they had been.

The wolf turned to add the potatoes to the pot, and Ishimaru ducked behind the headboard again. He was so tall, so…broad. No wonder he hadn’t had any trouble knocking Ishimaru out and dragging him all the way out to the Dark Woods. He waited for the cutting noises to start again, and then chanced another look. This time, he focused on the room itself, and any possible escape routes. The only door was barred with a huge roughly hewn plank. He could probably lift it, but not quickly. He’d been able to see that option before, because the door was next to the foot of the bed. The only other way out, a window, set in the wall just past the wolf himself. Ishimaru supposed there was always the chimney, but he couldn’t even consider the logistics of moving the gigantic iron pot and avoiding the fire. Then he’d be forced to squirm his way up and out, assuming he could fit, or keep his grip, or scale the red-hot stones. No, if he was going to escape, the window was his best option. Now, if he could slip these bonds—

“Hey, quit fuckin’ squirming or I’ll gut you right here and now.”

Ishimaru jumped, his heart pounding again. He’d been too focused on escaping, and hadn’t seen the wolf turn, cleaver in clawed hand. His hair was pulled up and back in a messy ponytail, eyes uneven in blind rage. He had wolf ears nestled in his strangely lightened hair. His lip curled up as Ishimaru stared, panicking again and frozen under the wolf’s glare.

“Fuck,” he swore again, and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“Why…?” Ishimaru asked, voice shaking. “Why am I still alive? It would have made more sense to kill me back where you attacked me.” He gulped, but the wolf didn’t answer right away. “I had a basket with me, a big one, it would have been easier to cut out the parts you weren’t going to use, leave the bones and the mess far away from here—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, and turned his back again. Ishimaru watched his hand ball into a fist, nails biting into his palm. “Do you want to die? Is that it?”

“N-no,” Ishimaru whimpered.

He exhaled deeply, and stayed silent for a long pause. “It’s never that fuckin’ easy, is it.”

Ishimaru glanced around again, even more confused now. The pot bubbled, filling the space between their words with an uncomfortably cheerful noise. Finally, Ishimaru worked up the nerve to speak once more.

“My name is Ishimaru Kiyotaka.”

“I said, shut the fuck up,” the wolf snarled. His spine straightened, and his expression changed. It was as if he were…revolted. Disgusted. But by what?

His clawed feet tapped against the floor as he approached the bed, a growl rumbling deep in his chest and the cleaver still clutched in his hand. Ishimaru scrambled away from him, the rope pulling tight around his wrists. He now lay diagonally across the bed, face up, feet closest to the edge the wolf approached.

He reached for Ishimaru’s throat, and raised the cleaver.

Ishimaru knew this was it, he was dead, there was no way he could— No, he had to try. He watched the metal glint high in the air as the wolf’s claws dug into his throat. His nails scrabbled across the man’s wrists. And then he did the only thing he could think of.

He cocked back both legs, aimed for the wolf’s broad chest, and let fly with a kick only a hare could manage.

The man actually squeaked as the air forcefully left his lungs. He flew backwards through the air, and hit the wall beside the door with the back of his head and his shoulders. He slammed into the wood with a whimper. The cleaver had flown out of his hand and embedded itself point-down in the wooden floor just an inch from his crotch, handle quivering.

He was silent for a moment, and then wheezed. He’d had the wind knocked out of him. Ishimaru felt a surge of pride, and a moment of celebration for this small vengeance.

The wolf finally caught his breath again, and seemed confused by the cleaver between his legs. He stared at it for a long moment, puzzled, and then wrenched it back out of the ground with a barking laugh. His palm went to his forehead, and he shook his head in disbelief.

“Okay, Ishimaru. Name’s Mondo. Ya put me on my ass, you deserve that much.”

Mondo leaned back against the wall, icy eyes turned toward the ceiling in exasperation. He threw the cleaver down in defeat and closed his eyes. His stomach growled; he tensed. 

He remained still like that for a long time, only his chest moving as he breathed. Ishimaru tried counting the inhales in order to mark time, but he lost count when he tried to calculate how long it was between breaths and multiply that by..shit how many times had he breathed now? He tried something else.

“Mondo?” he tested, voice faint. The wolf wrinkled his nose, which Ishimaru took as a sign to keep talking. “You were talking to someone, earlier. Who’s…Daiya? Is that right?”

“Don’t,” came the intense snarl.

Ishimaru didn’t. He clamped his lips closed and listened to Mondo’s deep breathing once more.

“My deepest apologies, I didn’t mean to—”

“He’s my brother, okay? Now shut the fuck up.” Mondo’s ears went flat. Finally, he worked up the strength to stand again, and took the cleaver back over to the countertop. Ishimaru heard him bustling around for a moment, opening cabinets, clicking wood together. He stirred his soup a bit, then replaced the lid with a loud clank.

Click, click, his claws tapped against the wood. He held out a bowl of vegetable soup, still piping hot, smelling of celery and potatoes and parsley and… Carrots. A ton of them, just floating about in the neatly carved wooden bowl.

“There’s no meat. I mean, fuck, obviously, you’re the only meat I have.” Mondo rubbed his forehead, red rising in his nose and cheeks. He reached for Ishimaru’s throat again, and the rabbit Blessed raised his foot in warning. Mondo retreated again with a frown.

“Look, I was just gonna prop you up so you can eat this.”

“Untie me and I would be able to do that on my own,” Ishimaru replied defiantly.

Mondo could see the sense in that, but also the deception. He set the bowl of piping hot soup on a cute round table near the window, and then stood near the headboard. His fingers quickly unwound the end of rope he’d knotted to the head of the bed. With that end free, he dragged Ishimaru’s weight easily, pulling him flush against the headboard.

Ishimaru didn’t dare fight back with his arms useless, weight being lifted into place, feet too far from the wolf to do much of anything. His wrists shot through with fire when the ropes tightened and cut off his blood flow. He clenched his palms into fists, and grimaced. And then it was over, his back straight up, hands in his lap. Mondo had added a few feet of slack in the rope - plenty for him to sip at a bowl of soup, and not nearly enough to make his escape. Ishimaru grimaced and turned away.

Click, click. Mondo brought the bowl of soup again. Ishimaru almost refused it just to make the wolf mad again, but his stomach did curl in hunger and it did smell amazing. He took it without looking at Mondo, and carefully raised his lips. He paused, bowl inches from his face.

“There’s poison in here, am I right?”

“That doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense!” Mondo shouted. “Yeah, I’m gonna put poison in my own food. No, dumbass, I can’t have you wasting away, gotta fatten ya up somehow!” He growled, and stomped back towards the pot, stirring it furiously.

Ishimaru stared at his reflection in the soup, and then gingerly sipped at it. It scalded his tongue, but made him gasp for another reason. This soup had a certain complexity that Ishimaru had never achieved, with the rich flavors of carrots and onions complimenting a more earthy taste that could only come from mushrooms. He could taste the garlic, the peppercorns, the perfect balance of saltiness, and many other flavors he’d never tried before.

How had he gotten his hands on this many ingredients? He slurped again, now greedily pouring the chunky vegetables into his mouth. Ishimaru couldn’t believe that a wolf of all things could be this talented at making vegetable soup. The bowl was soon empty. He held it up towards Mondo, who eyed him as if hoping for approval, and bowed his head.

“Thank you for this meal,” he stammered, eyes fixed on the bedsheets.

“You fucking stop that. Ya really think I won’t kill you if you’re nice to me?” He glared down at Ishimaru with his lips drawn, showing off a set of mostly human teeth with a pair of sharp canines set in his upper and lower jaws. He took the bowl with a snort, and rapped Ishimaru on the back of the skull with it. He’d held himself back, but…why?

Mondo set the bowl on his counter with a huff.

“I only wished to be polite,” the rabbit responded. “Your soup is delectable, and if we were friends, I would inquire about the recipe that you used. I didn’t recognize all of the ingredients, and I also find myself puzzled about your method of finding so many varying plants, in such volume too. I thought wolves were strictly carnivorous, but even I don’t have access to that many vegetables. Do they grow wild around here?”

“First off,” Mondo growled, “it’s…Daiya’s recipe. I just throw my meat in to simmer and then fish it back out if I don’t feel like eating it raw or roasting it. I don’t eat the veggies, they’re just for taste.”

“You have found so many, yet you just throw them away afterwards? I suppose it doesn’t matter where you find them, though, since I’ll never be leaving this place.” He glanced at Mondo’s face. No reaction.

And then sank back against his cabinets, boneless, sliding to the floor. He hid his face in both hands, an angry snarl fading into a defeated hiss of air. His knees splayed out to the sides. His shoulders hunched, as if he’d snapped under some invisible weight. He sat like that, bent almost in half, for several long minutes.

When he stood, all of his rage had drained away. Mondo seemed like a different person now, sad, empty, exhausted. He grabbed the cleaver again.

“I’ll show you,” he grunted, and clicked over to the bed. His ears were down and back again, and he wouldn’t meet Ishimaru’s eyes.

He took the length of rope he’d loosened earlier, and draped it over the headboard. He raised the cleaver. Ishimaru flinched as metal cracked against wood, and he opened his eyes to the knife, now embedded in the delicately carved plank. The rope fell to the bed, neatly sliced in two.

Mondo took the end still attached to Ishimaru’s wrists, but didn’t pull. “Come on, it’s a little ways.”

“Why won’t you untie me?” Ishimaru asked, now more befuddled than ever. What was the trick? What was he playing at?

“I will,” Mondo said quietly with a shrug. “Right after I show you.”

Ishimaru stood slowly, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you going to take my advice only now? Lead me away, execute me on the riverbank perhaps? Let the next storm wash away all traces of my passing?”

Mondo chuckled, but there was no humor in his voice. He shook his head, grimacing. He tossed the rope back on the bed, and turned to his door. It took both hands to lift the plank, his jacket seams straining as he flexed. He leaned the huge piece of wood against the wall, and then turned back to his captive expectantly.

Ishimaru knew he was supposed to run, brush past the wolf and yank open the door and flee in any direction. Anywhere was better than here. Anything was better than certain death.

Anything.

But he didn’t budge, obediently waiting for Mondo to pick the rope up again and tug him, ever so gently, towards the door. Was it fear? Was it…something worse? His heart didn’t pound in his chest this time, and he wasn’t stiff with fright.

Did he…trust Mondo?

Something had changed. Something was horribly wrong, and Ishimaru wanted to know what. And so, he let the wolf lead him outside into the glaring afternoon sun.

Mondo closed the door behind them. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his temples for a moment, but quickly steeled himself. Ishimaru followed him closely, and Mondo led at a comfortable pace.

“Is that a shed?” Ishimaru piped up. It was almost as large as Mondo’s cottage, the ground all around it littered with woodchips and a few old logs.

“Yeah, it’s where I keep my tools. Saws, axes, chisels… some old junk I never finished. There’s some seeds in there too if you ever need them. Er, come on.”

“You carve wood?” Ishimaru’s face lit up as he realized. “All of those wooden objects in your house, the bowls and headboard? You made that?”

Mondo snorted. “Yeah, made the house too. Daiya hauled clay from the river for the fireplace, that was all his doing. He’s the one who made the well work. I can’t do any of that stuff. All I know is killing, eating, and carving.”

Both of them were quiet for a long time after that. They followed a well-worn trail through a copse of trees, into a clearing, over a small hill, back into more forest. When they rounded the corner, Ishimaru knew they were there.

The trail led out onto a cliff over a wide, rushing river. On one side, a sheer drop into the water; on the other, a sheer rock face reaching twenty feet up. Between them, a flat grassy shelf converted into a sprawling garden. The entrance hid behind a tall gate, which had a simple iron latch. Mondo showed Ishimaru how to lift it and then turn. The gate swung open with a squeak, and Mondo ushered him inside.

Ishimaru counted head after head of cabbage, lettuce, kale, celery. Turnips and carrots poked out of the earth in uneven rows, garlic and onions and shallots poking their green tips out of the earth. Bean runners and cucumber vines climbed the side of the cliff, propped up with sticks. Pumpkin vines sprouted near the back of the garden, mixed with something else Ishimaru couldn’t identify right away. Were they…melons? Spiky bushes of chives grew near delicate strawberry bushes.

One plant lay far from all the rest, close to the entrance. A rose bush, carefully pruned, growing at the head of a rectangular depression in the ground.

Mondo knelt before it for a moment, head bowed.

“Ishimaru,” he said softly, finally meeting his eyes again. “Take care of this rose bush, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Ishimaru asked, face crunched up once more. Couldn’t he do it?

“I don’t have anyone else to ask. Ya probably think I’m right crazy, huh? I thought I could do it, but I can’t. So you’re gonna have to learn how to take care of this stuff for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Mondo didn’t respond. Instead, he stood, and ripped the knots away from Ishimaru’s wrists. He tossed the ruined rope into the river, face unreadable.

“You can run if you want. ‘M not gonna stop you. And ya can eat any of this stuff, just…try to replant, okay? But take care of this rose bush. Cover it with the tarp in my shed before the first frost and prune it every so often.” He stuffed his clawed hands in his pockets and shrugged.

Ishimaru rubbed the red marks on his wrists. This didn’t make sense. Nothing he did was making sense. His life, in exchange for…becoming his gardener? Is that what he was proposing? “What are you on about?!” His hands balled into fists at his sides. Enough of this cryptic nonsense!

Mondo took his time once more, choosing his words carefully.

“I don’t eat Blessed,” he said, turning away from Ishimaru.

“Could have fooled me,” Ishimaru shot back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mondo grunted. “Look, food’s scarce this year.”

“So you though it best to kidnap and threaten me?”

“I didn’t have a fuckin’ choice!” he shouted back.

“You always have a choice, that is the nature of a Blessed, and the very definition of sapience. You have no excuse for—”

“I asked Daiya to show me some way to get something to eat! And there you were, too stupid to notice me following you for like a fuckin’ hour!”

“Your dead brother has nothing to do with this!!”

Mondo whipped around, and smashed his knuckles against the side of Ishimaru’s face. The rabbit stumbled back with a hiss of pain, and sat, hard, next to the rose bush. He tasted blood. He tongued his split lip with a wince, one foot pointed toward Mondo in case he attacked again.

“Fine,” Mondo spat. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I had hoped…but no, I don’t care. I’ll be dead tomorrow. I don’t have time to care.”

Before Ishimaru had the chance to demand an explanation again, Mondo wrenched the gate open and took off. His gait was lopsided, one arm clutched to his stomach as he ran.

Ishimaru stared at the rectangular depression he sat in, then at the rose bush. And suddenly, everything fell into place.


	2. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishimaru faces a choice, a life for a life.

Mondo collapsed just inside his door, rubbing furiously at his face. He didn’t have to run anymore. He didn’t have to move. He didn’t have to fight.  
He still felt like he was disappointing someone.

“I’m sorry, Daiya,” he tried. “I didn’t last long without you. I want to live, but…there’s no point.” Mondo pulled himself over to his bed. “I can’t remember my last meal, I…” He curled up on his side, pulling his knees against his chest to lessen the burning nausea in the pit of his stomach. “I could have killed him, at any time, Daiya. But for what? So I can starve next month instead? Dammit, Daiya, couldn’t you have just led me to a fuckin’ deer or something?” He closed his eyes, and this time, made no effort to hide his tears. “Guess I’ll see you soon enough, man, I’ll bitch you out in person.”

His claws tightened in the bedsheets. His stomach growled pitifully, and then, Mondo sobbed.

-

Ishimaru had scampered after him, tried to follow his practiced way of weaving though the trees. Even weakened with fatigue and hunger, the wolf could sprint at blinding speeds, effortlessly switching from his two-legged gait in the forest to a four-legged bound that tore open the soil. He knew just where to put his hands and feet, using a branch to swing over a broken log, kicking off a boulder to switch directions in a split second, tail flared behind him for balance. He flew over a wide stream Ishimaru didn’t remember crossing on his way here, and the rabbit dug his heels into the dirt to stop himself from toppling over the edge.

“Damn,” Ishimaru hissed under his breath. He would have to backtrack and find a way around if he didn’t want to come out sopping with mud, and he’d already lost Mondo. Jumping down into the deep dip trickling with water and having to find a way to climb out the other side didn’t make sense.  
But now, he faced a new problem. Ishimaru was lost, weaponless, and on the edge of the Dark Woods as the sun began to set. Every moment he spent standing outside was a moment he left himself vulnerable. He didn’t have time to dawdle.

A wolf howled. At first, Ishimaru squinted around into the forest, hoping it was Mondo. Something shifted between the trees, too low to the ground to be the broad-shouldered wolf Blessed. Two icy eyes reflected back.

A black wolf padded into the receding sunlight, fangs bared, hackles raised. The hare stumbled backwards, and froze. A wolf, an actual wolf. What were the chances? Nearly killed by a wolf Blessed and then found by another wolf. Ishimaru’s nose twitched and his heart thudded with panic. He stared at the fangs, the glowing gray-lavender eyes, the string of drool quivering from its lips.

The wolf began to circle him, a growl buzzing deep in its throat. Ishimaru’s breath came in short gasps now. He told himself that panicking wouldn’t solve his problem and would in fact be a detriment towards his survival, but couldn’t bring himself to move beneath the huge predator’s stare. The huge animal circled again, slowly sizing him up and readying to lunge.

And then, it sat. The growling cut off with a little canine whine, its ears perked up, and it cocked its head to the side as if asking what Ishimaru was looking at.

Was it…a trick? Could a simple wolf think up a trick like this? Ishimaru mimicked its expression, turning his head to one side and drawing his eyebrows together. He perked up one ear and bent his knees, ready to kick this wolf as he had Mondo. The predator opened its mouth and let its tongue dangle, looking pleased. It rose to all fours again, now relaxed. It wagged its tail for a second, and then turned away from Ishimaru and ran back into the forest. It stopped just inside the treeline, turned back, and waited.

Ishimaru knew, logically, that a wolf who wasn’t Blessed could have no intentions, no sapient thought, and certainly no empathy. Logically, the wolf would only feel the need to eat, stay with its pack for protection, and procreate. Logically, Ishimaru should have turned tail and fled now that he had a chance, even knowing this wolf would run faster than Mondo had.

He took a step forward, his curiosity and the knowledge that he was lost beyond compare overruling his survival instinct. That had been frazzled since waking up in a wolf’s cabin anyways, and Ishimaru frowned as he took another step after the huge black dog. He remained tense, ready to kick or jump out of the way in a moment’s notice, never letting his eyes leave the black fur and pale eyes.

The wolf hopped up on a fallen log, tail wagging again, and trotted a few more steps into the forest. Every time Ishimaru fell too far behind, it would stop, turn its head to watch him, and wait with unearned loyalty. The rabbit never dared follow too closely, wondering when the canine would circle him again with murderous intent.

The sure-footed boy had heard legends in town of black dogs like this one, who waited for their prey to stumble and then lept onto their throat. They could keep other monsters away from their eventual food, but their presence was a double-edged sword. Ishimaru watched the wolf happily weaving between obstacles and looking back with curious eyes, and avoided any precarious footholds.

Or perhaps the wolf was a different black dog, one of omens and graveyards and misty nights. Those who saw it, even out of the corner of their eye, would soon die. Nobody knew if you were killed by the dog, but some had said the dog was only trying to warn you off your present course, to save you from your fate. A ghostly dog that melted into the blackness the instant you felt certain of its presence. But Ishimaru knew with certainty that this wolf was solid, substantial. He could step into the tracks it left, could touch the occasional clump of fur stuck in a bush or to the rough bark of an old tree. Still, the rabbit stayed stiff with alertness.

The wolf kept leading him deeper and deeper into taller, leafier trees and sparser ground cover. Here, the ground starved for sunlight. This far in, only fallen branches, clumps of mushrooms, and layers upon layers of dead leaves covered the dirt between the huge tree trunks. Ishimaru looked back, wondering how far he had wandered since losing Mondo. How would he fare without Ishimaru there? What could he even do for the starving Blessed? He considered turning back. The wolf hadn’t stopped, nor had it made any indication of where it was headed. It didn’t make any sense for Ishimaru to follow a natural predator of his kind, especially this deep into such an eerie forest. Yet, he continued, drawn by the wolf’s strange behavior.

Could it know about the wolf Blessed? The thought struck Ishimaru out of nowhere. Perhaps it had been one of Mondo’s old pack? Even so, Ishimaru reminded himself, the black wolf couldn’t possibly have the powers of thought necessary to lead a rabbit anywhere but to his death.

Why then, did he keep following, even as the sun dipped behind the horizon and stained the treetops bloody red?

Because it had every chance to attack him, and yet it hadn’t. Because it was better than being lost. Because it was something Ishimaru could do, something he could face, one step in front of the other and ears raised to detect the unexpected.

Because he couldn’t watch Mondo die.

Ishimaru had no idea what he hoped to accomplish, but at the very least, the constant unease kept his mind off of the Blessed and his look of terror as he fled. Had he made it back to his house, with its crackling fire and memories of his brother? Was he still…? Ishimaru shook his head. He couldn’t know. There was no use in worrying.

As he hopped nimbly over logs and low branches, his mind buzzed with confusion. Usually, he reveled in facts and rules and logic, but ever since he’d seen through Mondo, nothing made sense anymore. He knew he should be terrified of the wolf Blessed, a creature who had attacked him, threatened him, wished to eat him. But he only felt worry, pity, and…camaraderie, of all things.

The black wolf stopped at the foot of a tree, sniffing furiously. It circled the wide trunk, smelling every inch. It froze. The huge violet eyes turned to Ishimaru, and then it pointed at a root poking from the ground with its sensitive nose. Ishimaru stared, trying to understand what it wanted him to do. It yipped, and when Ishimaru didn’t respond, it started to dig under the root.

Black dirt flew, and the wolf barked at him again. Ishimaru stepped forward with a blink, approached the wolf cautiously, and peered into the hole as it dug deeper and deeper. Something yellowed with age appeared. A human skull.

Ishimaru yelped, and lept back. This wolf did mean him harm, then. He fought the urge to laugh; of course it meant him harm. It had been foolish of him to ever think otherwise.  
The wolf tugged at something trapped in the dirt, ignoring the rabbit where he’d stumbled. Its teeth gripped fabric, paws braced in the dirt, shaking its head right and left vigorously. Ishimaru recognized the color and texture. A burlap sack, the kind he’d seen holding apples and potatoes and onions in the town marketplace. Something silver glinted as it was pulled from the hole, stuck in the sack’s coarse fibers.

A large kitchen knife. The kind Ishimaru knew how to wield. Somehow, it hadn’t rusted while buried beneath the tree root, in some sort of makeshift grave. The wolf barked at it and bounced, then looked expectantly up at Ishimaru. It twisted its head and put up one ear again.

Ishimaru pushed himself to his feet. He approached the wolf with hands held out in front of him, but for every step he took forward, the wolf took two back. His boots crunched in fallen leaves and dried dirt, the noise making him jump and swallow with every step.

As Ishimaru took the knife, the last dregs of light drained from the sky. Both he and the wolf were left in purple-tinted darkness. The wolf threw back its head, eyes raised to the heavens, and began a long, sorrowful howl.

His hand closed around the wooden knife handle. Lips curved up in a small smile, waiting for the wolf to attack now that he had armed himself. He was sure he had figured this animal out, this time. The lavender eyes glinted at him through the darkness, but again, no attack came. The wolf padded right and left, right and left, the hair on its spine raised in agitation. It drew closer, pointing with its nose at the burlap sack.

“Do you want me to…take that too?” Ishimaru asked aloud before he could stop himself.

The wolf didn’t answer, of course, it only jumped at the sound of his voice. Its nose twitched, and Ishimaru wondered why the canine acted like this. Perhaps it had been a pet at some point, trained like a hunting dog?

Ishimaru hoisted the bag over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the wolf. It ran from him, tail relaxed, as if it didn’t have a care in the world. It bayed at the moon a second time, and after an eerie silence, there came an answering howl.

The wolf took off into the night, kicking up clods of dirt with its dull claws. Ishimaru chased after it, as he had Mondo. He would be lost without this wolf to guide him through what had to be the Dark Woods. With a pounding heart and fading vision, he followed the dark shape melting through the trees. Ishimaru couldn’t fathom how quickly he pushed onwards, hulking black columns whizzing past him just inches to either side. The wolf knew how to choose the perfect path for Ishimaru to leap from log to log to flat-topped boulder to clear ground.

And then, Ishimaru nearly stumbled in shock as he reached a clearing, black with ash and the charred remains of great trees. It stank of smoke and death, a pit of hell under a clear, star-speckled sky. The grass had dried to a crisp in a ring around the burned dirt, crunching under Ishimaru’s boots.

The wolf disappeared in the solid blackness, even his piercing eyes hidden by the sooty air. Ishimaru sneezed and choked, coughing on the bitter taste flooding his lungs. Everything here was dead, blackened by powerful flames. But not even an ember glowed in the darkness. A presence hung in the air here, oppressive and eerie. Ishimaru shivered, and his tiny rabbit tail stood up in fright.

Something mewled pitifully in the night. Ishimaru clutched the knife and raised his ears, turning his head in every direction. Then, he paced toward the noise, his boots sinking into the soft ash. Had the wolf gotten caught? What else could make that sound? His eyes searched through the heavy darkness, and he groaned under his breath. His vision wasn’t amazing even in the daylight, and at night, he might as well be blind.

Finally, he caught sight of a moving figure, pale against the charcoal-covered dirt. A deer, laying on its side. Two of its legs bent out from underneath it at strange angles, and one of its antlers had been snapped in two.

Ishimaru considered the knife, and then the burlap sack. He swallowed nervously, his thoughts turning to a certain wolf Blessed with a painfully empty stomach and a taste for red meat.

The deer made another pitiful noise as he stepped closer. The rabbit cringed and looked away, bting his lip and forcing the image of Mondo - huge, strong, capable Mondo clutching his stomach as he ran - into his head. He took another step, trying to pretend he couldn’t see the way the deer stared at him with terrified eyes, legs twitching as it tried to get up and escape.

Could he really do this? He had never killed anything before. This poor deer would never walk again, never breathe again, never be anything. The panicked animal kicked harder, screaming with pain and terror.

“No, shh, stop!” Ishimaru shouted at it, fat tears rolling down his face unbidden. He couldn’t do this. It wasn’t his place. He was a rabbit, not a hunter, not a killer, not a predator. His breath came too quickly, eyes wide and eyebrows tilted down in fear. “Stop!” he yelled again, waving the knife. He was rewarded with silence, the deer falling still with only its sides heaving from exertion.  
This deer would fall prey to wolves the instant Ishimaru turned his back, and he knew that, logically, the outcome would be the same whether or not he acted. The only thing that would change was…

He again thought of the huge wolf Blessed, who had lost his nerve in an instant and entrusted Ishimaru with his greatest secrets. He had let Ishimaru free at the cost of his own life. He had known that he would slowly waste away, sobbing as his hunger pains gnawed his insides apart, his death slow and agonizing. But instead of putting it off, giving himself more time to find another source of food, he had looked into Ishimaru’s eyes, introduced himself, and smiled. He trusted Ishimaru. He shared his most prized posessions with Ishimaru. And then, he’d led him on a wild goose chase, losing him so Ishimaru wouldn’t see him die, and so he wouldn’t be tempted to kill the rabbit in his excruciating final moments.

If Ishimaru didn’t act, Mondo would die.

He blubbered now, reaching out to touch the deer’s sensitive throat. It jumped under his fingers when the deer struggled to draw breath. The corners of its mouth dripped with foam from its labored breathing, its pulse thick and heavy under Ishimaru’s fingers.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ishimaru whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.” He raised the knife, silver in the moonlight. “Please forgive me,” he whimpered.

The metal flashed like lightning. The deer twitched beneath his hand, struggled for breath, and with a horrible gurgle, Ishimaru felt it die. He pulled the knife from its open neck, blood wetting the cracked ground.

He wailed in sorrow and fury, unable to do anything but watch the severed artery drip, drip, drip blood. He had done this, he had traded one life for another. He had proven that Mondo meant more to him than this deer, that Mondo meant more to him than his innocence, that Mondo meant more to him than his terror. He wouldn’t let the wolf Blessed die. He couldn’t. The thought of Mondo, curled in on himself as his body shut down and pain twisted his insides, made his hands move again. The knife sliced easily through muscle and sinew, the steaming insides spilling from its gut as Ishimaru butchered the deer the only way he knew how. He wouldn’t let Mondo die. He would take care of the man who hid his soft heart behind bared teeth and angry words. He would repay him, a life for a life. Ishimaru had already decided.

He reached under and inside and around, tugging and cutting and hacking at bone when necessary. When a piece separated from the body, he opened his burlap sack and set it neatly inside, then wiped the constant stream of tears from his face. The dead animal was a lot easier to deal with like this, lean muscle and yellow fat instead of motions and terrified glances. He looked down at his stained hands. Blood, all the way to his biceps. Blood, soaked into his pants and shirt. Blood drying on his cheeks where he’d smeared it.

Smoke drifted past him with a gentle blowing noise. It smelled different from the rest of the burned matter all around him, warm and earthy and pleasant. The smoke was white.  
Ishimaru turned his head to find the source of the tiny cloud, and froze with his eyes wide. A man crouched beside him, balancing on the balls of his feet and sitting on his heels, watching Ishimaru chop up the deer with rapt attention. He held a kiseru, a thin pipe, between his fingers, and lifted it to his lips. He wore all white, like the smoke that puffed from his mouth, and then his nostrils. Baggy pants, white sarashi, boots bleached to the color of snow. His jacket hung into the soot, back cut in a slit for his black tail. His jacket had a collar of fur identical to Mondo’s, except black to match his hair and canine ears. His fingers ended in vicious claws, held delicately around his pipe. His upper eyelids had been painted he same violet as his gentle eyes.

Ishimaru studied his relaxed posture, the way he let his tongue touch the tip of his pipe before placing it between his teeth. The man waited patiently for Ishimaru to move again, content to nonchalantly draw puff after puff of pleasant pipe smoke with his eyes fixed on the gutted deer carcass.

Finally, Ishimaru let himself exhale. His heart still fluttered furiously, and the rabbit felt as if he could choke on it, but the man had managed to creep up behind him and had waited instead of attacking him. He truly hoped that counted for something.

The man’s mouth curved up in a pleasant smile. He moved slowly, deliberately. He turned his head to scrutinize Ishimaru, beaming at him with great warmth.

“I’m proud of you,” he said suddenly, voice sincere and deep and familiar and strange all at once. “You have convictions, and ya didn’t let fear stop you.” He drew another thoughtful breath from his kiseru, and blew the smoke into Ishimaru’s face. “Y’ got a lot in common, yeah?”

The smoke didn’t burn Ishimaru’s nose as he expected it to. Instead, it had done quite the opposite, clearing his mind and calming him with a single surprised gasp. The man continued grinning down at him knowingly. Questions made Ishimaru’s head spin. Where had this man appeared from? How was he doing that with his pipe smoke? Who did he have a lot in common with?

“Can ya remember something important for me, bunny rabbit?” He cocked his head, his words innocent and almost playful. He made the words “bunny rabbit” sound like a term of endearment, something a good friend might call him. He didn’t hide so much of a hint of malice in his tone; he wasn’t teasing Ishimaru in the slightest.

Ishimaru nodded twice and blinked once. His eyes never left the man’s soft expression and amicable smile.

“Gotta remember it exactly, ready? Okay, here goes.” He cleared his throat and exhaled one last lungful of smoke. Then he looked Ishimaru right in the eyes, and began. “Diamonds are created under pressure. But they also take patience. Heat alone does not form strength.” He drew another breath from his pipe, and blew three smoke rings in rapid succession. From where Ishimaru sat, they drifted into place and formed an ephemeral halo around the moon. “Remember it, okay?” He tapped the side of his head and shot Ishimaru a quick wink.

Ishimaru drew his eyebrows together, more puzzled by the man’s words than before.

“Hey, you’ll know when the time is right,” he assured Ishimaru with a lazy wave of his hand. “Just remember, diamonds are created under pressure, but they also take patience. Heat alone does not form strength.” He shook his head to reinforce his words, and then tapped his temple again. “Got it, kiddo?”

“Yes,” Ishimaru assured him, “should I recite it back to you?”

He chuckled kindly, the tiny tittering contrasting with his deep voice and muscular build. “It should be fine, bunny rabbit. I trust you.”

Before Ishimaru could ask him how he trusted a stranger so easily, the man stood and faced the direction Ishimaru had come in. His white jacket flapped in the breeze, and he let the kiseru dangle from between his teeth for a moment.

“I can’t stay,” he informed his audience of one, “but listen carefully. The only way to leave the Dark Woods without roaming in circles is to follow the moon. Always walk toward the moon until you leave the tall trees behind.” He turned back to Ishimaru, his smile somber. “Take care of him, okay? Tell him…he’s forgiven. Tell him that, yeah?” He tapped the pipe upside-down, discarding the burned tobacco. He looked off into the distance instead of at Ishimaru, and when his pipe was clean, he pressed his thumb into the bowl and tamped down nothing. He smiled at Ishimaru one final time, a tear running down his face. It glittered silver, like the moon, like the knife that had slit the deer’s throat. Then he drew a breath with his thumb still packed into the bowl, and Ishimaru watched in morbid fascination as the man dissolved into smoke and drifted away on the wind.

His heart pounded again, bloodstains forgotten.


	3. Unblessed

Kiyotaka scurried towards the moon, always towards the moon. It dipped behind trees taller than mountains and drifted to one side or the other as he followed it. He hauled the heavy deer meat over one shoulder until the weight made his arms burn, and then hauled it some more.

Mondo. Mondo Mondo Mondo!! He could make it if he hurried, he had to make it. His chest heaved, his rabbit heart hammered. Tears streamed down his face even now.

The forest still loomed, the black trees like claws tearing at the sky and tearing at Ishimaru. Branches scratched at his arms, his face, leaving hot trickles of blood as he pushed onwards. He hopped over brambles and rotted-out tree trunks covered in slimy growths, protecting the bag first and his life second.

A wolf howled behind him, but with the way the Dark Woods twisted and confounded, it could have been from anywhere. Mondo? The man with the pipe? A pack of real wolves following their stolen prey? Ishimaru tore his way desperately through the forest towards Mondo, the wolf who would give his life for a rabbit.

And he, Ishimaru, would give his life for a wolf.

Where was the exit? His forearms itched with deer blood and Blessed blood, his lop ears snarled with needle-covered seed pods and stinging nettle leaves.

His feet never stopped moving towards the moon, carrying him through thinner trees and finally, short brush that gave way to a healthily growing clearing.

Kiyotaka collapsed to his knees, panting. Blood stung his left eye from a particularly nasty cut on his forehead. He didn’t remember scraping his knee, but it burned under his torn pants all the same. He hoped his boots had fared better, but still, he didn’t dare look.

Another wolf howl.

“Damn,” he hissed, voice shaking. He didn’t have time for this. He stumbled back to his feet, and heaved the burlap back over his shoulder. His lungs burned and he spat blood and tears into the dirt.

What if Mondo had already–no, he couldn’t think that way. If Mondo had died, he’d know it, somehow. The man with the kiseru would have appeared and told him…right? No. He shook his head. The wolf Blessed would be waiting for him. He had to bring him this deer.

He had to find a starting point.

He could hear the river. His ears lifted away from his hair, his head cocking towards the sound of rushing water. If he hadn’t crossed running water since chasing Mondo, and the river still ran off to his right… he planned his path, remembering the stream Mondo had used to lose him. He would have to find the deer trail to get out of the forest and retrace his steps to Mondo’s cabin. Ishimaru put one foot in front of the other, but then rocked back on his heel, unsure. If he faltered now, if he got lost… Time was of the essence. He turned his face to the sky.

A cloud streamed across the sky, thick and oily and black. It choked out the stars, and covered half of the moon. A disgusting cloud, the color of ash and soot.

Ishimaru’s eyes widened.

“No, no, no no no no…” he babbled. The cloud trailed up into the sky off to his left, the source glowing with orange and flecked with sparks. His ears folded back against his skull.

Ishimaru screamed, feet pounding across the ground. He glanced up at the thick smoke, sobbing, yelling the wolf’s name, following it until he could see the greasy glow through the trees. He ducked and weaved at breakneck speed, ignoring the scratches, the blood, the burn in his lungs and his limbs.

He could feel the heat radiating from the blaze the instant he set foot inside the ring of trees surrounding Mondo’s home. The burlap sack hit the ground with a wet flop. He paused, frozen in fear.  
Flames licked at the thatched roof and flickered in the window, smoke from the interior billowing from the chimney and the new holes in Mondo’s perfectly carved walls. The structural beams hadn’t caught yet; the fire had been set relatively recently.

Ishimaru couldn’t catch his breath, red eyes reflecting the searing glow. His hands shook. His pounding heart nearly gave out.

A noise. He lifted his ear, listening over the sound of crackling wood.

There it was again. A whimper - soft, weak, pained.

Ishimaru tore across the clearing without hesitation, and threw himself shoulder-first into the heavy door. It rattled, but didn’t budge.

Mondo had thrown the huge plank over the door. He was in there.

He was still alive.

That thought spurred Ishimaru onwards. He raised a leg and kicked with all his might, once, twice, three times. His foot throbbed, but the door still stood.

“Dammit! Shit!” he gasped, throwing all his weight against it again and again. He searched the frame frantically. And then, with a sudden bolt of clarity, he remembered.

“Shit, shit,” he whispered as he rounded the house. There it was, the window he’d planned to escape through. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He looked down at his horribly bloodstained, scratched forearms. Then, he put his fist through the pane.

Ignoring the shards that stuck in his knuckles and the blast of hot air that tore out much of the glass, he hopped into the inferno. Smoke stung his eyes and choked his lungs. He kicked over the smoldering table, sending what had once been a wooden bowl of vegetable soup clattering to the floor.

A dark form huddled in bed, limp, curled in the corner furthest from the fireplace. Mondo’s arms were still around his middle, ears down, eyes closed.

He didn’t move when Ishimaru screamed his name.

“No, no! Mondo! Wake up, you’ll die!” he pleaded, lifting the plank away from the door. His muscles protested, his arms blistering from the heat. He coughed, and tasted blood.

The plank swung up, back, and crashed against the floor. The boom shook something loose, and burning thatch showered down as the roof caved in. Ishimaru ignored the shower of embers that scorched his ears and back.

“Mondo!” he screeched again, his tears evaporating before they even spilled. He stumbled, his entire body giving out. He wrenched the door open, sending another wave of hot air whipping past him. The added oxygen fueled the flames, sending its orange tongues higher.

Ishimaru dove onto the bed, his heart hammering. Adrenaline raced through his veins, the only thing keeping him upright.

He scooped Mondo into his arms. He was light, much too light for a man his size, and Ishimaru cradled him easily. He lifted, muscles spasming with exhaustion, but he bit his lip and heaved the unmoving wolf off of the mattress and limped out into the cool night air.

Ishimaru felt his ruined boots catch on one another. He tripped and flopped into the brown grass, watching Mondo’s body roll bonelessly away from him.

“Mondo?” he breathed, fighting away the blackness that curled in on the edges of his vision.

The wolf didn’t budge, sprawled out in the grass with his limbs tucked up at odd angles. His skin looked pale, clammy. His chest didn’t rise or fall.

“Mondo!” he tried again, crawling towards him. “Mondo…?” The blackness drew further into his vision, and he fought it with all his might. It didn’t matter. His own life didn’t matter. He had to save Mondo.

Ishimaru reached out a shaky red hand, blisters blooming where he’d touched embers and caught sparks. It didn’t matter. He pressed it to Mondo’s neck, shooting lighting pain through his nerves. Still, he held his hand there, bleeding palms protesting against the sweat and soot on the wolf’s skin.

A pulse. Ishimaru could feel the faint beat of Mondo’s strong young heart beneath his wounded fingertips. But even though he waited, listening and feeling for it, Mondo would not draw breath.

The smoke! It had choked Ishimaru too, but not for nearly as long as it had suffocated the wolf.

“Breathe!” he screamed at Mondo, shaking him by the shoulders. Hot tears burned all the way down his face. He ignored them. “You need to breathe!” Ishimaru pleaded, hiccupping with panic while the darkness swallowed him up. He couldn’t black out! He was so close now!

The rabbit Blessed dug his fingernails into his raw palms with a roar of pain. But, the fog lifted, his heart thrumming and his lungs heaving. He didn’t matter. Mondo did. And with that single-minded goal, he raised his fist and slammed it against the wolf’s sternum. It didn’t even hurt this time. He beat on Mondo’s chest a second time, his hand numb. Then, he lifted his clenched fist one last time, bawling so hard he was blind. He heard rather than felt the side of his hand connect with Mondo’s breastbone with enough force to dislocate his pinky finger.

Mondo coughed. His eyes opened, unfocused, wide. His chest heaved, his entire body wracked with coughs and shudders. He curled in on himself, fighting for a lungful of clean air. It wheezed down his throat and made him heave up everything he’d eaten for a month - or, nothing. But he breathed. That mattered. His breath rattled in his chest and whimpered back out of him, eyes closing again, and then Mondo was senseless once more.

“No!!” Ishimaru shrieked. “Mondo, wake up! Mondo!” He searched with his now filthy hands, pleading with fate, or justice, or karma, or whatever would listen. He had to find out what he had done wrong, how he could fix his only friend.

Metal squeaked behind him. Then the sound of water hitting wood. Ishimaru froze, one ear lifted away from his head. His pinky throbbed, but he pushed the sensation down and away. Unimportant.

A second squeak, exactly like the first, and then more rushing water against wood and splashing into more water. The rabbit spun all at once, jumping to his feet as quickly as he could with blood crusting over his eye and boot soles melted and uneven. He raised his useless bloody fists, keeping himself squarely between the noise and Mondo.

Another squeak; the white-jacketed wolf spirit used all his might to force down the rusting pump handle, drawing water from the well into a little wooden pail.

“Don’t just fuckin’ stand there,” he barked, sounding exhausted. “You’ve got wounds to clean, joints to pop back into place, a wolf to feed! Get going!”

“What are you doing?” he asked, but the ghost pointed a claw at the sack of deer meat. His eyes blazed with murder, and Ishimaru stumbled away. Not the time, he chided himself as he pushed his body just a little further, just a little more. He stopped in front of the dirty burlap sack, looking from his raw palms to the grainy fabric he’d dug out of the ground. He cringed, grabbed, and hoisted, feeling the half-scabbed wounds tear open again.

Surprisingly, he didn’t cry. He thought maybe he didn’t have anything left in him to cry out. Blood perhaps, he mused, watching the stain in the burlap grow like he couldn’t recognize it was leaking from his own hands anymore. He heaved. The meat hit him in the back harder than he’d meant it to, and he nearly fell because of his shaking knees.

He’d lost a lot of blood, he realized. Not too much at once, but the constant scrapes, cuts, burns, and reopening wounds were starting to add up. He felt dizzy suddenly, still trying his damndest to put one foot in front of the other.

The rabbit Blessed’s ankles wobbled, and he sprawled across the grass as Mondo had done only minutes ago.

“…I can’t,” he gasped. The darkness was so comforting, if he just stayed here for a moment and slipped into it, he was sure he could–

A bucket of icy wellwater upended over his head.

“Get the fuck up,” the man growled around the kiseru he’d dangled from his teeth.

Ishimaru gasped, suddenly freezing, alert, awake. “Yessir,” he coughed, his black ears stuck to his cloak. What had he been thinking? How selfish of him. He could die later, when Mondo was…

The rabbit sprung to his feet. Alertness had come at the cost of pain, but Ishimaru ignored it. He didn’t just put one foot in front of the other, he strained against the weight, against the impossibility of it all, against his body’s cry to give up. Why was he doing this? Because he had to, he reminded that nagging naysaying part of him in the back of his mind. A life for a life. The outcome had been the same, even though Mondo had chosen not to act. He tried not to think of how he’d gotten the meat in his burlap sack.

He fell to his knees at Mondo’s side, and had a terrifying thought.

Kiyotaka had no idea what to do next.

The spirit had obviously worked the top layer of rust off of the pump, because the hellish squealing worked much faster now. He brought over a pail of water, and Ishimaru looked to him for what to do.

“You can’t feed him if he’s blacked out, so get his ass up.” He puffed smoke from the long pipe. “I can’t stay long. Took a lot outta me just to move the damn pump.”

“No,” Ishimaru gasped, “what am I supposed to do? Don’t go, I’m scared that I’ll–”

“You won’t fail,” he snarled, voice like acid. “Get his ass up. Make him drink a little water before he eats. Cook the meat. That’s all the tips I got, kid.” He tamped his thumb into his pipe bowl again, still puffing sweet white smoke from the side of his mouth.

“But what if he won’t wake up?”

The man with the pipe paused for a long moment, his face contorting into a glare that could wither an entire forest. “I don’t think you fuckin’ heard me,” he said slowly, his voice quiet and dangerous like the calm before a storm. “Get. His ass. Up.”

Ishimaru swallowed, and nodded.

“Will you at least stay a little longer and cook the meat? I’m, uh…” I’m a worthless bunny, he wanted to say, I don’t know the first thing about cooking meat. “I’ve never eaten meat,” he tried.

“Can’t touch it,” the spirit informed Ishimaru curtly.

“What?” Ishimaru started lifting Mondo’s head a bit, gently patting at his cheeks with the least-bloody parts of his hand.

“I can’t manipulate it. I wasn’t its…starting point,” he tried again, smoking a bit more slowly and watching Ishimaru cradle the wolf Blessed’s head.

Mondo’s eyelids fluttered for a second, and then closed again.

“Damn,” Ishimaru hissed.

“Try again. He’s breathing, his heart’s beating, his other injuries are minor. You got time now, so just keep trying.” He exhaled a puff of white smoke shaped like a ring.

Kiyotaka slapped Mondo across the face. The jolt woke him long enough to inhale a lungful of sweet white smoke. His eyelids fluttered back closed, but now he looked relaxed, peaceful.

“I’m gonna start the meat cooking the instant he wakes up,” Ishimaru thought aloud, hoping the ghost would chime in.

He’d vanished.

“No,” the rabbit exhaled, red eyes wide and darting. “No, no, no…” He shook Mondo’s shoulders, the panic clawing at his heart again. “Mondo!” he called, “Mondo, come on!”

The wolf tightened his grip on Ishimaru’s arm, and his eyes flipped open like an unshuttered pair of lanterns.

They looked all wrong.

Mondo snarled in warning, ears back, fangs bared, claws biting into the frightened rabbit’s skin. His eyes were blank and feral. Whatever tenuous grasp he’d had on reason had fled, leaving nothing but a starved wolf.

And in the manner of a starved wolf, Mondo sank a mouthful of fangs into the first bit of meat he’d been presented with.

His fangs hit bone; Ishimaru had thrown an arm up in fright and the wolf latched on with all his remaining strength. Which, on account of his being very nearly dead, wasn’t very much. He weakly shook his head, just once, trying to rip at the muscle.

Ishimaru managed to get a foot free, and kicked. Mondo caught the rabbit’s heel with the side of his throat, and rolled several feet with a shocked whimper. His teeth left several more long lacerations, shredding through sleeve and skin alike.

Kiyotaka vaguely wondered, for just a second when he toppled over, if it would be insulting to call his shirt a shirt anymore. He stared down at the damage. More injuries, more blood. He actually shrugged this time, and then got to his feet.

The ground threatened to jump up for his throat at every step, and still, he walked. With unfocused eyes, he lifted the bucket of water, walked towards the crouched man with blood still smeared across his mouth, and set it down with a splash. “Drink,” he ordered, voice cold with exhaustion.

The wolf Blessed - perhaps Unblessed, now - tilted his head to one side. But his animal instincts kicked in, and he was thirsty, so he lowered his face to the cold water and began to lap.

Ishimaru walked away, and with his one good arm, reached into the burlap sack and grabbed the first piece of cooled, sticky meat his hand landed on. A leg, he found himself thinking through a haze, and he slapped it down on an unburned section of plank. He kicked the wood over to the remainder of Mondo’s ruined cottage, and heard it sizzle as he neared the last smoldering wall. “Food,” he pointed sternly, the wolf now looking at him with confusion, then cloudy recognition. He stabbed at it again with a bloody pointer finger to solidify the unspoken order, and then took two steps towards the sack again to start a second piece.

He raised his foot to take a third step, and paused. He stumbled, dropping face-first into the dry, sooty grass. His red eyes reflected the last of the firelight. He didn’t move.

Ishimaru’s rabbit heart had given out.


	4. Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And...the aftermath. Warning for explicit first time sex near the end!

He felt something. A spark, maybe, a jolt of something electric starting in his chest and running through his skin and in the backs of his eyes. It felt like when he’d woken up for the first time, thinking of his name and vaguely wondering where his fur had gone.

He couldn’t raise his eyelids. They were much too heavy, like trying to lift the setting sun.

Something warm and kind of weighty rested on his chest. Something moving, rubbing against his sternum.

“I’m sorry…I’m really sorry…” Mondo whimpered, nuzzling his bunny rabbit’s shirt. “Please come back, I’m so, so sorry…”

Ishimaru knew he shouldn’t be alive. He didn’t dare move, because even thinking about flexing a muscle or turning on his side made his very being ache. His veins felt like yarn was pooling in them, fuzzy and wrong.

Hot tears soaked the front of Ishimaru’s ruined shirt as Mondo swore, over and over.

Ishimaru drew a rattling breath; it was all he could manage.

Mondo froze. His ears perked up, and his tail lifted ever so slightly. He sat as still as a statue, all but his rapidly darting eyes frozen between seconds.

“Ishi…maru?” he gasped, finally exhaling.

For a moment, he’d thought…for a moment, he’d hoped…

His ears drooped again, tail tucking against the ground in shame. He wouldn’t look at the bite on Ishimaru’s forearm, the blood matted in his shredded clothes, the streaks of burns on his hands.

And then, against all evidence towards the contrary, Mondo heard it.

Ba…dum. Ba…dum. Mondo’s eyes went wide.

The beating of a heart. Too slow, too deep, too far apart, but there all the same.

That’s all that mattered.

“Ishimaru?” he asked again, head never leaving his chest. His ear twitched in time with Ishimaru’s slow heartbeat.

“Don’t die on me…not again…please don’t leave me all alone…” he whispered. “I’ve never met anyone so good and loyal, you don’t deserve this…”

Ishimaru’s heart paused, a moment too long, and the blood in Mondo’s veins froze. He couldn’t keep laying here, wallowing in self-pity. Had this bunny rabbit cried, and shouted “woe is me” when Mondo had been dying? No. He’d done what he could. That’s how he’d ended up like this, and for what? A wolf who gave up before he’d ever really tried?

Mondo weakly pushed himself up, jaw set, eyes hard. He could pump water. He could make a small campfire from the skeleton of his smoldering house. He could bring food, and herbs, make a poultice for the burns. He would do what he could.

The frightened, childish part of Mondo puffed out its chest, and in a streak of hot selfishness, shouted mine, mine, this one is mine. You can’t have him too. I can’t do much, but I can fight, and I will rip him back from death’s jaws. The fear dried up, replaced by anger and stubborn resolve.

Ishimaru’s eyelids fluttered weakly, but Mondo was too busy snapping timber with his bare hands to notice.

-

Ishimaru could feel something stirring in the back of his mind, like a squirrel scrabbling behind the walls of his house. It wasn’t him, and it roused him as it searched for something.

“Hello?” he thought weakly to himself, figuring if nobody was there, he’d only sound strange inside his own head. It hung there for a moment, unanswered. 

“Looks like old dogs can learn new tricks,” the other thing hummed, friendly laughter and happiness in his voice. “Stepping past the veil really makes things on the other side a whole lot clearer, that’s for sure.”

Ishimaru felt much too tired to compose an entire sentence, so he simply thought, “?” 

“You really don’t know?” the presence asked, warm and gentle with a hint of sharpness around the edges.

Ishimaru could smell, suddenly, or perhaps he could just remember the smell. A soft hint of smoke trickled into his mind, white and calming.

He could see the strange wolf, plain as day, bleached coat and black fur swallowed up in white pipe smoke. He sat within his mind’s eye, puffing thoughtfully on his kiseru.

“Don’t you know what you are, bunny rabbit?” he asked, lifting an exquisite eyebrow.

“Blessed?” Ishimaru answered weakly.

“Yes, of course. But, do you know what a Blessed is?”

Ishimaru thought for a long moment, watching the wolf twist his kiseru between his fingers and blow a series of smoke rings through each other. Blessed had been animals, but now they…weren’t. But they weren’t exactly human, either. More resilient, for one, still in touch with their instinct and their specific diet. And each was so different from the next.

“Something…more?” he tried.

“Hear hear,” the wolf answered, tipping his pipe to Ishimaru with a friendly smile. “I did mean a bit more specific than that, bunny rabbit. Stumped?”

Ishimaru didn’t know how to answer, so he stayed silent and waited for the explanation.

“Halves,” the wolf said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Halves?” Ishimaru repeated, hoping that thinking the word would make the meaning more apparent. It didn’t.

The wolf waved it away. “Let me explain a different way. You are much younger than Mondo, right? But your bodies are the same age.”

Ishimaru would have tugged awkwardly at his collar, if he’d been something more solid than a representation of thoughts inside his own unconscious mind. The wolf seemed to catch his feelings, however, and continued.

“He was a Blessed for about ten years before you woke.”

“…Really?” Ishimaru stammered, shocked.

“Don’t worry about it, bunny rabbit, there’s more things to explain. Didn’t you ever wonder why you woke up when you woke up?”

“I…suppose,” Ishimaru answered. It had crossed his mind, but usually he’d explained it away with something about it being his time, or coincidence, or maybe his tiny rabbit self had willed himself into changing. He liked that one a lot.

“Because I died.”

Ishimaru stayed silent for another long moment. “I’m…sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he thought sincerely.

“Halves,” the wolf said, waving his kiseru. He did his soft smile again, and Ishimaru knew he’d already been forgiven.

“Blessed are halves, given a second chance to be whole. Do you see now?”

Ishimaru tried to nod, and then frowned. No, that still didn’t make any sense. Blessed were animals who had become people, not…whatever the wolf was trying to say. Halves who were a whole? Second chances?

The wolf chuckled.

“Didn’t you find it strange, bunny rabbit? Taming wolves, killing deer, seeing ghosts?”

“I just did what I could…what I needed to do. That’s all. Everything happened so fast, I only had time to react.” Ishimaru thought of his burned palms, and the stinging cuts on his ears. He’d ruined his boots, hadn’t he?

“It’s my fault,” the wolf admitted. “I fucked up my second chance.” 

“I think mine’s over too,” Ishimaru mourned. “I pushed myself too hard at the end there. But if Mondo’s alive because of it, then I guess I don’t really mind.” 

“You’ll have to push yourself a little more, kiddo. I’m not letting my half die.”

Ishimaru thought for a moment before catching the wolf’s words. “Your half? Wouldn’t we be thirds, then?”

The wolf gave the gentlest laugh. “No, bunny rabbit. That would require three pieces.”

“You…me…Mondo?” he asked, still unsure.

“You and me,” he told Ishimaru slowly. “And Mondo. Those are the halves.”

And then Ishimaru understood everything.

“We’re…the same half,” he thought quietly.

“Aye,” the wolf agreed, pulling the tip of his pipe from his mouth and delicately wiping it. “That’s why I’m not going to let you die.”

He lunged forward with the sharp mouthpiece of his kiseru, his mouth closed in a line of grim determination.

There was a sharp jolt in Ishimaru’s heart, like being stabbed with a cherry-hot prong. And then, Ishimaru gasped.

-

The darkness, the wolf, the thoughts flowing between them all disappeared into the grey mist of dawn. Ishimaru blinked.

His mind felt faraway for a long moment, and all he could think of was eating, resting, finding a burrow to hide in until he healed. He lay still, trying to understand why he felt like there was something more he’d forgotten.

He knew he hated being on his back. He had to move or he’d be easy prey to the first predator that caught sight of him. He kicked his foot experimentally, wondering why they were heavy with pieces of…something tattered and thick.

Slowly, he remembered what boots were, and elbows, and what to do when you’ve got a tickle in your throat.

He coughed wetly, and rolled to his side. Bits of ash smeared on his cheek and his ruined clothing, making him sneeze. He spat, and it came up gray.

Ishimaru tried to get to his knees, his muscles shaking in protest. His hand slipped on the dewy grass, and he collapsed with a little squeak of fright.

He couldn’t remember feeling so weak before in his life. Every breath made his chest heave. Every blink reminded him how easily he could slip back into sleep. Every beat of his heart pounded in his eardrums.

He stared at the sky, and decided to start small.

He blinked one eye at a time. Then, he raised each eyebrow. His right one stung a bit, and he cringed.

His ears twitched. Something creaked behind him, bumping over the hard earth. It sounded wooden.

Ishimaru’s oldest instincts bubbled to the surface, and he froze stiff. The rattling drew closer, and his whole body went tight in panic. With his eyes wide and his heart hammering, he let his nose wrinkle.

Whatever it was smelled of singed fur and blood.

The noise stopped, and Ishimaru held his breath.

Huge paws crunched in the dirt, walking towards him. They came to a halt as the creature shuffled beside him.

A clawed hand reached for his throat.

Ishimaru screamed, high and bloodcurdling, just once. He raised his arms to cover his head, and kicked weakly, completely missing his target.

“Ishimaru!” the wolf shouted, pulling him into his arms before he hurt himself.

At Mondo’s touch, everything came flooding back. The pain of his cuts and burns and more importantly, the reason for every one of them. The reason he stank of soot and cooked meat. The reason he’d wanted, so desperately, to keep on living. He clung to the front of Mondo’s coat by the fur collar, not strong enough to hide his face when tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Shit, shit,” Mondo was hissing. He lifted Ishimaru with only the slightest wobble, and tucked Ishimaru’s soft ears beneath his set jaw.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ll take care of ya now,” he murmured, an edge to his voice. “Don’t be scared, hey.”

“Mondo?” Ishimaru’s voice felt thick and sticky in his throat. “I almost…when I woke up, I couldn’t remember you, I screamed, I was so scared, I’m so sorry,” he croaked, still shaking in fear. 

“It’s fine,” Mondo whispered in his gruff voice, “same thing happened when I, uh…”

Ishimaru looked down at the arm Mondo had bitten, and recognized a clean dressing tied over it. The wound still ached, but it was dull and distant.

“Are you gonna be…okay enough…if I lay you on this cart?” Mondo asked hesitantly, and turned.

Ishimaru had never seen a cart before, and Mondo had obviously made this one in a hurry. The planks were rough, the wheels made of thick slices of tree trunks, the whole thing held together with fat wooden pegs and several strips of deer leather. He’d loaded it with a stack of split logs, and filled Ishimaru’s basket with leaves and fresh vegetables. On the other half of the cart lay a soft deer hide blanket over a woven grass mat, and a bit of white fabric bunched into a ball.

Ishimaru nodded gently against Mondo’s chest, sniffling.

“Don’t worry, we just have to get over to the shed,” he explained, pointing. The small building had escaped the flames, and now stood open with tools and logs dragged out in front of it.

He lowered Ishimaru into the makeshift bed and covered him in the blanket.

And then, after a moment of studying Ishimaru’s wet, dirty face, he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t scare me like that, bunny,” he growled, and trodded to his place between the cart handles.

As the wood rattled across the heat-dried dirt, Ishimaru cracked a sleepy smile.

-

It took a few days of constant care before Ishimaru could sit up without help. Mondo brewed him tea in a little glazed pot his brother had left him, and blew on it in a little wooden cup until it was cool enough for Ishimaru to sip. He made endless cauldrons of weak vegetable soup, once he’d scrubbed the wood ash out in the river. They sat together day and night, watching the fire die in the firepit Mondo dug. Ishimaru quickly grew used to the feeling of Mondo’s arm holding up his aching body, helping him lean against his shoulder and sip his tea and broth.

He ate his smoked venison and even drank a bowl or two of broth each day, stubbornly telling Ishimaru that he’d be strong again once his body got back to work.

When he wasn’t holding Ishimaru up to feed him in his makeshift cart-bed or pulling him around in his makeshift cart-bed, he was building. He hauled logs, moved tools, lopped down trees, and cut planks until he collapsed, regardless of Ishimaru’s warnings that he wasn’t well enough yet.

As soon as Ishimaru got to his feet again, he recovered quickly. Mondo still wouldn’t let him out of his sight, but gladly accompanied him to their garden, or the slow part of the river. Ishimaru held his hands (mostly with his fingertips) and dragged him away from his work, telling him to slow down and finish recovering.

During the day, Ishimaru mended their clothes as best he could with his hands wrapped in thick bandages, using a bone needle and cotton thread while Mondo ripped up the last pieces of his old house. The fireplace still stood, so Mondo scrubbed the stones and set to work rebuilding around it. At night, when the light was too low for Ishimaru’s eyes, he took care of Mondo by changing his dressings and making sure he ate.

While Mondo was otherwise occupied, Ishimaru ducked into the shed to look for something he could fix his boots with. He looked through wooden crates of tools and dug around piles of scrap and woodchips, finding nothing but a bit of rotting hide. He pushed aside a sheet, searching through mallets of all sizes and iron-headed hatchets and tangled balls of twine.

He pulled another sheet off of a pile of something that stood taller than him, hoping for a bucket of glue or maybe an awl.

Instead, the fabric fluttered to the floor beside the thickest tree trunk Ishimaru had ever laid eyes on.

A figure towered over Ishimaru’s head, his face and torso expertly chipped out of the ancient wood. His legs and down were still rough, but at his feet, a wooden wolf stared intelligently up at Ishimaru.

Ishimaru swallowed loudly, his eyes wide. It couldn’t be! But it was, a kiseru carved toothpick-thin touching his gentle smile.

Mondo picked that exact moment to rush into the shed.

“Ishimaru, you okay? Thought I heard some…oh, this old junk,” he muttered bitterly, picking the sheet back up. “Never got around to fixing it, didn’t have the heart to burn it,” he growled in quick explanation.

“It’s wonderful, Mondo,” Ishimaru assured him. “It looks just like him.”

Mondo froze halfway through tossing the sheet back over it, his ears standing straight up.

“Wh…what?” he spluttered, spinning around and dropping the sheet. “Looks just like who exactly?”

The rabbit lifted his ears. “The wolf with the pipe, the one who guided me through the Dark Woods.” His eyes grew wide, and he hopped from one foot to the other. “Oh! He told me to tell you something!”

Mondo stayed quiet, swallowing and breathing through his nose. He’d clutched his fists at his sides.

“He said…to remember that diamonds are created under pressure, but they also take patience,” he recited, tapping himself on the temple. “Heat alone does not form strength.”

The shed shook as Mondo fell to his knees.

“Mondo?” Ishimaru gasped, and kneeled beside him.

“How did you know?” the wolf whispered, letting Ishimaru pull his head until it rested on Ishimaru’s shoulder. His eyes were fixed on the floor, staring without seeing. “If you’re jokin’, it ain’t fuckin’ funny-”

“I am not joking, Mondo. For one thing, I have very little understanding of the concept.” Ishimaru wrapped an arm around Mondo’s broad shoulders, and felt them start to shake. “When you left me at the grave, I tried to follow you. But I got lost in the forest, and a wolf…that wolf,” he pointed at the foot of the carving, “led me into the Dark Woods. It led me to that deer.”

A long moment of silence passed between them, interrupted only by the tapping of tears on wood.

“He…did?” Mondo finally choked out.

Ishimaru nodded, rubbing his cheek against Mondo’s folded ears.

“And then that man was there, he taught me to follow the moon to escape the Dark Woods. He was smoking a lot, too. That’s when he told me to tell you about patience, and diamonds.”

Mondo let out a sob, and hid his face in the crook of Ishimaru’s neck.

“After everything,” he whimpered, his voice tight, “he still…saved me.”

He shifted his weight, and lifted Ishimaru into his lap. With a sniff, he nuzzled Ishimaru’s ears and rested his chin atop Ishimaru’s head.

When he’d finally stopped moving, Ishimaru continued.

“He did something to me, too.” He rubbed his sternum, over his heart. “He said he wouldn’t let me die, and then I woke up.”

“He saved both of us,” Mondo whispered shakily, and wrapped both arms around Ishimaru’s waist. “He brought you back, Ishimaru. You were dead.”

Ishimaru stiffened instinctively, startled by the possibility. He felt his little cottontail stand up straight, and his nose twitched.

“R-really?” he stammered.

“I listened to your chest, and…your heart had stopped.”

Mondo had to breathe for a moment, his body shaking again.

Ishimaru reached up a gentle hand and touched Mondo’s cheek.

“And then you were breathing again, so I just did shit that seemed good to do.” He shrugged, hot tears running against Ishimaru’s fingers.

“I’m okay, Mondo,” he reassured him. “I’m okay, and you’re okay, that’s what matters.”

“He saved us,” Mondo repeated again. “I dunno how the fuck he did it, but you had to have seen him, and he fucking talked to you…” Mondo squeezed Ishimaru tight. “And here I was, giving him shit for sending me a baby bunny rabbit.”

Ishimaru felt Mondo’s lips curve up beneath his fingers.

“Okay, Daiya, I’ll wait and heal,” he told the smiling statue. “I can live outta the shed for a little longer, stop killin’ myself to get the house built. I hear ya loud and clear, bro.”

He chuckled dryly, and kissed Ishimaru’s head.

“So, he was…your brother? Daiya?” Ishimaru asked quietly.

“Yeah, my big bro. Died a couple years ago now, left me on my own.”

“You never mourned him,” Ishimaru stated. “You were angry with him.”

Mondo pressed his lips together in a flat line, and didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned into Ishimaru’s hand.

All of the tears he’d held in for all of those years found their way out.

-

“Welcome to my home.”

Mondo blinked in the relative darkness of Ishimaru’s underground house. Before today, he’d only ever stuck his head into regular-sized rabbit burrows in the hopes of finding something tasty, so he didn’t know what to expect when Ishimaru lit his fireplace.

The entire construction was ingenious, in Mondo’s opinion. He’d dug out the space beneath an old oak tree, opening a hole for the entrance and a hole for his chimney between the knotted roots. He’d chipped parts of the tree out, making the burrow shallow and dry. One root dropped down in the center of the circular room, perfect for leaning against.

The only furniture Ishimaru kept was a large, flat stone he used as a low table or to keep cool in the summer, the nook for his fire, and a wide dip that served as his bed.

Mondo examined the bed, impressed by the construction. Ishimaru had first woven himself a sort of huge basket of reeds, to keep him off of the dirt, lined it with dried moss, and laid his travelling cloak out on top of it. He pressed his hand down, impressed by how warm and springy it felt.

“You made all this?” Mondo motioned around the burrow.

“Yes, all but the cloak. I was given that by a traveler, in thanks for lending him a place to stay for the night, and some soup.” Ishimaru set down his basket, loaded with vegetables and smoked deer and rolled strips of clean cloth.

“That’s my bunny rabbit,” Mondo grinned, taking his hand and petting it with one rough thumb.

Ishimaru smiled back at him, and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. He leaned against Mondo, proud of how much more solid he’d already become.

“And you’re my wolf then, I would assume,” Ishimaru hummed, flopping against him.

“Yeah.” Mondo leaned over and nuzzled one of Ishimaru’s lop ears.

“Feeling tired?”

“Just sore,” Mondo grumbled. “Can tell my burns are healin’ since they’ve been hurtin’ all day.”

“And your stomach?”

“Less wobbly than yesterday. ‘M bein’ careful. How’s your arm?”

“Still a bit painful, but that’s to be expected. My palms still hurt the most, however.” He looked at his bandaged hands, padded with cotton and wrapped with leather, so they resembled gloves.

“We should really change those,” Mondo suggested. “And mine, I guess.”

Ishimaru reached for the rolls of cloth, and Mondo pulled off his long coat. It had gotten singed around the edges and a few holes burned through, but miraculously stayed in mostly one piece.

The two of them redressed one another’s wounds in silence, shedding clothes as they got in the way. They had gotten used to one another’s nudity very quickly out of necessity - or more accurately, Mondo had - and then quickly discovered they didn’t mind the sight of one another’s bodies, injured or not. Within days, it had become easy, even comfortable, to curl up nude together in their makeshift bed.

Ishimaru tied the last knot around the top of Mondo’s foot, and cautiously touched Mondo’s face. They smiled at each other, both recovering well.

Mondo kissed his ear and pulled away, scooting into Ishimaru’s scooped-out bed. “Come on, some rest’ll help.” He sprawled out in the moss-lined pit, and held his arms open.

“You’re right,” Ishimaru agreed, and crawled on top of his chest.

Mondo’s warmth surrounded Ishimaru like a protective blanket. He sighed, relaxed, and sank against Mondo’s torso.

“I just wish my eyebrow would stop stinging,” he whispered against Mondo’s skin. “It would be better if it actually hurt, but no, it’s only a troublesome little twinge.”

“Sorry, babe. Should I kiss it?” Mondo rumbled.

Ishimaru looked at him with his brow furrowed. “What? No, I think I would find that painful.”

“Oh.” Mondo thought about it for a minute, and continued. “When I was really little, Daiya used to kiss my scraped knees, my bumped head. Said it would make the pain go away quicker.” He shrugged. “He put a bandage on first, o’ course.”

“Daiya did?” Ishimaru imagined it for a moment. “Maybe he had the right idea,” he conceded.

They lay together like that, listening to the fire crackling away as it poured out a pleasant heat.

Then, Ishimaru shifted down Mondo’s body and knelt between his legs.

“Kiyotaka?” He lifted an eyebrow. “What are you…oh.”

Ishimaru touched his lips to Mondo’s stomach.

“I…hope the pain goes away,” he said slowly, blushing.

Mondo swallowed. “Feels better already,” he assured Ishimaru.

Ishimaru kissed his stomach again, a little higher.

“Better make sure,” he explained, looking worried. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”

He kissed Mondo again, and again, crawling over him on his knuckles to kiss a bruise, a bandage, and the sore part of his neck.

Mondo turned his head, and caught him in a deep kiss.

They broke apart with a soft moan, and Mondo looked startled.

“What’s going on, babe? You okay?” he asked quickly.

“I, yes, I believe so,” Ishimaru stammered. “It felt like the right thing to do, at least. Did I mess up?”

“No! No. It’s fine, very fine, if you’re okay with it.”

“I will be sure to tell you if I find out I am not as okay as I first thought I was,” Ishimaru promised. “Say something if I mess up, alright? I wouldn’t want to hurt you while trying to kiss the pain away. Or, ever, really.”

“I’m sure you won’t, babe.” Mondo beamed.

Ishimaru kissed his nose.

He settled into a lazy rhythm of kissing and moving, keeping his weight on his knuckles. His exploratory, inexperienced progress left Mondo’s skin feeling tickly and warm. Yet, his kisses seemed desperate, like he had to force himself to ease up.

“What is bothering you, then?” Mondo questioned him. “You’re tense.”

Ishimaru paused, and sat up. He looked guiltily at the contents of the basket, and then at Mondo. His mouth curved down in worry.

“…You don’t have very much left,” Ishimaru explained slowly. “I’m…afraid. I don’t want that to happen again.”

Mondo glanced over at the little pile of smoked venison chunks. Maybe enough for two, three days at the most. He frowned.

“Not much we can do about it tonight,” he finally shrugged. “I’ve got a few more days’ worth, if I make soup, so don’t worry about me. We’ll figure it out in the morning, okay?” He tried to smile.

“I don’t want to lose you, after all this.” Ishimaru ducked and rested his forehead on Mondo’s chin.

“Babe,” Mondo whispered, “I’ve got somethin’ to live for again. There’s no way I’m gonna let it get that bad.” He ran a hand soothingly down Ishimaru’s hip and thigh. “Promise. I’ll eat bugs and berries for a month if I have to.”

Ishimaru shifted, and kissed him again.

“Okay,” he said, still sounding unsure. “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

He sat on Mondo’s hips, touching his muscular chest. It had always been too cold at night, sleeping under the stars, to uncover each other like this. Ishimaru examined Mondo’s broad shoulders and strong abs, already filling back out with hard muscle.

Mondo joined in, stroking Ishimaru’s legs. He smiled up at the boy he’d made such a fierce connection with, and hooked his hands over Ishimaru’s hips.

He’d been kicked enough times to know how powerful a rabbit’s legs were, and the rest of him was powerful to match. Mondo couldn’t find the words, but he ran his hands up Ishimaru’s sides and rubbed circles around his abs with rough thumbs.

He lifted Ishimaru’s right leg, and unfolded it. He kissed Ishimaru’s ankle, still stroking his fair skin.

Ishimaru startled both of them by moaning.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, going red in the face. “That felt very nice, is all.”

The wolf stayed silent.

“What I mean to say is, please continue, but, I would, um, afterwards…”

Mondo raised an eyebrow.

“I think that I would enjoy attempting to have sexual relations with you,” he spat very quickly, and then closed his eyes.

For a long moment, Mondo didn’t say anything. And then, with blush rising in his face, he gave a quick thrust of his hips to show what he thought of that idea.

Ishimaru gasped and turned to look at the warm skin that had nudged his tail.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he confessed, gulping.

“It’s okay, we can figure it out as we go,” Mondo soothed, petting his thighs again. “Let me help you, babe.”

“But you’re still much more hurt than me, Mondo,” Ishimaru whispered back, sounding frightened.

“I’m also the one who doesn’t have burned fingers,” he pointed out. “If you just stay on my hips, I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

Ishimaru sucked in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then nodded.

“I trust you.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Mondo asked, arms held open again.

Ishimaru leaned forward on his knuckles and knees to accept the embrace, and nodded.

“Don’t be scared, babe. It’s gonna feel good.”

Mondo, of course, having lived in the woods with only his brother for his whole life, had no idea of what to do. But he and Ishimaru had both animal instinct and the faintest ghost of a life long past guiding them.

Ishimaru whined when Mondo hesitantly cupped between his legs, unsure of how much force to use. He tried palming Ishimaru’s cock, rubbing until he’d forgotten to be scared or nervous or worried.

“It does feel good,” Ishimaru whimpered, rocking his hips out of instinct. “Am I going to make you feel good too?”

Mondo couldn’t help but bite his lip at the thought. “Only if you want to, Kiyotaka.”

Ishimaru dropped his head to Mondo’s collarbone, and nodded.

“Then look at me, relax,” Mondo soothed, petting Ishimaru’s lower back. “Wanna see if you like it, first.”

He brought his forefinger to his lips for lack of anything else, wet it, and nudged the tip against Ishimaru’s hole. After a moment of teasing, it slid in with ease.

“Ah,” Ishimaru hummed noncommittally.

Mondo stroked his finger along Ishimaru’s slick insides, and felt him shiver.

“Ah!” he gasped this time, looking surprised.

Mondo’s resulting smile was full of fangs and affection. He felt accomplished, and repeated the action.

“Please,” Ishimaru breathed.

That was all the encouragement Mondo needed to hear. Taking great care not to go too fast, he worked the second finger inside and pressed down a bit harder. Ishimaru whined at the pressure, but then rocked his hips in time with Mondo’s movements.

It took several minutes of slow stretching to work Ishimaru open, every thrust in and every scissor out making Ishimaru pant.

“Does it hurt?” Mondo asked, spreading his fingers as wide as he could manage.

Ishimaru shook his head, and squeaked, “a bit strange.”

Mondo pulled his fingers out, and stroked Ishimaru’s shaft a few more times.

The next step seemed all too obvious for Ishimaru, and he didn’t wait for Mondo’s instructions. If he had, he might not have pushed the tip in so eagerly, or sat down quite so quickly.

It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it didn’t feel as good as he’d expected. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything, really, but something in the far corners of his mind knew that he was supposed to enjoy this. He did like being full and knowing that Mondo had his fingers gripped so tightly in the cloak his knuckles had gone white, but the memories that weren’t exactly his told him there should be something more.

And then Mondo moved.

A few quick thrusts of his hips, and Ishimaru threw his head back in pleasure. He leaned back on Mondo’s bent legs, moaning as Mondo’s girth spread him open and pressed hard against his prostate.

Mondo grasped Ishimaru’s cock, and stroked it it time with his thrusts.

He suddenly fell motionless, one hand on his stomach. 

“Oof,” he exhaled, “bad idea, looks like I have to lay still.”

“That’s…okay,” Ishimaru told him, voice shaking. “Should I keep going?”

Mondo groaned, nodding.

A moment of experimentation later, Ishimaru found a way to lift himself off of Mondo’s cock, and then lower himself onto it again. He liked that he could control the speed and the angle, and smiled as he panted and bounced.

“Oh fuck,” Mondo growled, “fucking fuck.” He scrubbed his unoccupied hand over his face, trying not to go crosseyed. He then placed his hand on Ishimaru’s leg, holding him there.

Without warning, Ishimaru tightened around Mondo and cried out as he came. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him, so he sat still in surprise and let Mondo pump his shaft until he had nothing left.

The wolf snarled beneath him and lifted his entire lower body, thrusting shallowly as he too finished.

Mondo used a corner of Ishimaru’s cloak and wiped the cum up as best he could.

Ishimaru looked at the stains, looked at Mondo, and frowned tiredly, then decided he was too drained to scold him right now. He crawled over Mondo’s torso, and collapsed bonelessly on his chest.

“Oh babe,” Mondo sighed, “that was amazing.”

Ishimaru nodded, his eyes already closed.

“I had no idea that was…we could…” Mondo grasped, vaguely waving one arm. “Fuckin’ great,” he concluded.

Ishimaru lay quietly, listening to his pulse pumping through him, racing…

…Actually, now that he thought about it, it wasn’t racing as fast as it normally did.

And, actually, it matched up pretty well with Mondo’s heartbeat.

He blinked himself alert again, and pressed a hand over his heart.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Mondo sounded scared.

“My heart. It’s different.”

“…What do you mean, different?”

“It’s beating slower now, like how yours beats.” He took Mondo’s hand and pressed it over his chest.

Mondo listened, and felt. It had been slow and deep when Ishimaru’s breathing had come back, too.

“What does that mean?”

Ishimaru thought, one ear sticking up more than the other.

“Um, well, this may sound unreasonable, but…”

Mondo raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, implausible at best, but…I think this might be…how Daiya brought me back.”

“You’re right, that sounds pretty implausible,” Mondo parroted, but his eyebrows stayed scrunched together.

“It’s only a theory,” Ishimaru conceded. “How about we worry about it tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” Mondo yawned. “You’re alive, and that’s what matters.”

“And you’re what matters to me,” Ishimaru whispered, huddling back down on Mondo’s chest and frowning when Mondo wrapped only half the cloak around them.

Three words popped into Mondo’s head and out of his mouth, as if they were the most natural thing he could say.

“I love you,” he hummed.

“You’re washing my cloak in the morning,” Ishimaru grumbled back.

-

“So you just yank, like this?” Mondo asked, jerking the willow branch back with both wrists. Bone hook and earthworm, tied to the end of the branch with a length of twine, popped out of the river with a splish.

“Only after you feel a bite, like something is pulling the twine,” Ishimaru instructed him, holding up a book with a fish stamped into the cover. He dangled his feet in their new boots over the edge of the cliff, smiling out over the river.

“We will have to go into town more often,” Ishimaru continued, gently closing the book and setting it down beside him. “The townspeople are very nice on market day.”

“Well yeah, they want ya to buy shit,” Mondo laughed, staring down at his line in the water. “Or give ‘em a good deal. Even I figured that out quick enough.”

Ishimaru stood and brushed off his pants. He turned to the sprawling rows of vegetables he’d been trying to tame all week, and found a good-sized head of lettuce. He dug up a couple of carrots and picked a handful of green beans off of their runners.

“Are you going to bring more wooden dishes to sell next time?” he called across the garden, laughing as Mondo tried to steer his bait around a rock.

“I think I’ll make some chairs,” he answered quickly, still struggling with his fishing line.

“I hope you have enough lumber.” Ishimaru set his vegetables in his basket and checked on their little campfire. It had burned down almost to embers, so Ishimaru pushed another split log into the pit.

“Got one!” Mondo shouted triumphantly, and after a moment of splashing, hauled a fat trout out of the water.

Ishimaru hurried over and flipped through the book, finally finding the page he wanted.

“Now it says to, uh, kill it, cut off the, uhm, head, and then clean it by removing the, uh, organs.” Ishimaru swallowed and looked thankfully at the contents of his basket. “Then you cook it over heat. It says embers work well.”

A half hour later, Mondo caught another one as Ishimaru thoughtfully ate his way through the head of lettuce.

“We should go soon,” Mondo stated, pointing at the angle of the sun. “Your burrow’s quite the fuckin’ walk.”

“Yeah,” Ishimaru agreed through a mouthful of green beans. “Teach me how to use a saw, so I can cut planks,” he added with a shrug.

“I can do that easy.” Mondo laid his fish filets on the unburned side of the log. “Never thought I’d be livin’ out of a fuckin’ rabbit burrow though.”

“I can’t say I had ever envisioned sharing my bed with a carnivore, either,” Ishimaru agreed.

Mondo poked his fish, and flipped it with his claws.

“‘M glad you did though,” he muttered, tail thumping quietly against the ground.

“Of course you are, you dog,” Ishimaru ribbed gently, and flopped onto his stomach.

Mondo glanced at him.

“You okay?” he asked after a second.

“Mmm, comfortable,” Ishimaru murmured.

Mondo reached out a clawed hand and scruffed his hair, making sure to scratch behind Ishimaru’s ears.

“‘M just glad we got a second chance.”

Ishimaru held a hand over his heart for a moment, and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the fic! Please feel free to leave a comment if you find any errors or if you would like to see more work from me!


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